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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179123">No Rest for the Wicked</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer'>RiaTheDreamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Budding Love, Fear of Death, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens), Serious Injuries, Temporary Character Death, crowley goes by crawly, discorporation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:36:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaTheDreamer/pseuds/RiaTheDreamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Guilt didn’t mix well with demons. It could be compared to seasickness, clawing at his insides, and making Crawly feel ill. It swelled like hungry coils reaching for his chest, and when Crawly failed to ignore the unwanted heaviness, he made the decision to remove himself from the scene he shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place.</p>
  <p>“Right,” he said and turned his head. “I’ll leave you to it. Try holding your breath for a while. It might work.” </p>
  <p>The demon had only managed to take a single step when a shaking hand grasped the edge of his robe, staining the dark fabric with blood.</p>
  <p>“Please.”</p>
  <p>Crawly froze and suppressed a sigh. That had done it. He couldn’t leave now.</p>
</blockquote><br/>The first time Aziraphale discorporates, Crawly is there. It's an unpleasant situation for both of them.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Rest for the Wicked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale was falling. Not Falling with a capital F, but to an unaware bystander, it might look the same. The missing detail was burning wings. Aziraphale was dropping from the sky, but his feathers were not on fire. He hadn’t denounced God – even though unasked questions had haunted him since the Flood.</p><p>But Aziraphale knew better, and so it was a surprise when, mid-flight, it felt like he’d forgotten his wings back on the ground. It was as if they simply didn’t exist, and Aziraphale barely had the time to widen his eyes before he began to plummet. His wings didn’t even manage a few flaps but remained limp when Aziraphale flailed his arms in a useless attempt to slow his fall.</p><p>It didn’t work. Despite the increasing speed of his fall, Aziraphale still had the time to reflect on the situation. His wings were numb, and he couldn’t reach for the power to perform a miracle. It might be the adrenaline getting to him, but Aziraphale was slowly getting convinced that he’d managed to fly straight into an anti-angelic ward.</p><p>It’d be easier if he’d <em>walked </em>into it. It’d sting, and Aziraphale would wrestle with his curiosity and cautiousness the rest of the day while staying near the ward, exploring its edges. From this height, however, the ward’s effects were a much bigger problem for him to deal with.</p><p>Aziraphale had been flying to find Crawly. It’d all started with Crawly saying: “Stay away.”</p><p>Even so far away from the ocean, the stench still followed Aziraphale. This was absurd – the Flood was long gone, and the humans had settled on the sprouting land, rebuilding. Maybe they didn’t remember the floating corpses. Maybe they hadn’t looked.</p><p>Aziraphale had, and the sight wouldn’t leave him alone. He knew it haunted Crawly as well. The demon had looked crushed the last time they’d spoken, expression dark and sullen as he’d cursed Heaven for the destruction.</p><p>“Don’t,” the demon had said. “Don’t follow me.”</p><p>“Crawly.”</p><p>“I mean it. I want a break from <em>Heavenly influences</em>,” he had said while looking at the retreating water. Then he’d called forth his black wings and flown away.</p><p>Aziraphale had been alone with the humans and his thoughts. The relatively calm, dry months had given him time to think – and then overthink. Was Crawly mad at Heaven? Or was he mad at Aziraphale?</p><p>The angel had tried to explain the concept of the Ineffable Plan and divine justice. He could hardly blame Crawly for his lack of understanding. Not everyone had Gabriel to firmly explain the dangers of questioning decisions that were above you. Though, Crawly should know the consequences of asking too many questions.</p><p>Aziraphale wouldn’t say he’d tried to track down Crawly. That would be rather rude considering the demon’s command. However, they were bound to run into each other at some point, seeing how they were sharing the same planet, and Aziraphale had heard rumors of other humans – humans he hadn’t been guarding with a dwindling interest, humans that would be in much greater need of Heavenly guidance than the descendants of Noah Aziraphale had stuck around with.</p><p>It was the shadow across the land, fires gleaming and the smoke rising to the skies that had drawn Aziraphale closer. Clear signs of humans, and Aziraphale had basked his wings, flying faster at the sight.</p><p>Now-</p><p>The settlement grew beneath him. It was bigger than expected, and as Aziraphale attempted to twist his body to prepare for what he hoped could be called a landing rather than an impact, he saw with horror that it had been built by the edge of a lake. The sight of the water forced Aziraphale to close his eyes. It made sense, of course, for the humans to live near a resource, but how quickly did their memory falter? How many generations needed to pass before the bloated corpses had been forgotten?</p><p>When Aziraphale opened his eyes again, he was staring at the dark sky, stars twinkling in the distance.</p><p>It wasn’t a landing.</p><p>Aziraphale hit the ground back first, and the split-second of awareness only involved the sound of splintering wood mixing with the loud crack accompanied by pain. Oh, the pain.</p><p>Consciousness was unexpected and rather unpleasant. It was followed by an unwelcome wetness, and something warm was trickling down his forehead, causing Aziraphale to open his eyes. The sky was still dark, and in the middle of the darkness was a single white feather, slowly drifting downwards.</p><p>Aziraphale’s wings twitched, and pain flared up at the movement, threatening to drag him under again. Digging his fingers into splintered wood, Aziraphale tilted his head and saw the moon reflected in black water. It would appear that he’d destroyed half of the dock.</p><p>Feeling sick, Aziraphale turned his head in the opposite direction, trying to get a proper view of his left wing to access the damage. If miracles were still out of his reach, he would have to deal with the injury the best he could and quickly. It would be preferable if he could manage to tuck away the wings before any human would find him in this humiliating position.</p><p>Aziraphale never managed to get a good glance at his wings. Just as the corner of his eye was filled with red and white, he became distracted by the sight of the bloodstained wooden shard protruding from his chest.</p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said, tasting blood. “Oh dear.”</p><p>What followed next were several painful and fruitless attempts to wrench himself free. Whenever the agony became too great, he’d black out for a few seconds. He’d claw at the wood that had impaled him, he’d try to pull himself upwards, he’d attempt to wriggle his bent wing free from under his back, but it all just led to a brief moment of merciful unconsciousness.</p><p>Aziraphale’s thoughts were scattered but still managed to wander in curious directions. Would his body give up first, or would he be found by humans who would finish the job? Or would they be merciful? Could he ask them for help? Was there even any help to be given, or was he too far gone?</p><p>Something cold was spreading within him, reaching for the bleeding holes in his chest, and then it twisted and pulled at him, causing him to gasp as the world blurred and new fears clawed at him. Was this-? How could he know? How could he even imagine it? His chest burned and bled, and rapid breaths were accompanied by an involuntary whine.</p><p>“How in the blessed world have you managed to do that?”</p><p>It shouldn’t be a surprise – Aziraphale had hoped to find Crawly, after all, but he couldn’t help but blink in gratitude when the demon stepped out of the nearby hut’s shadow. He carefully stepped across the broken planks, nearing the crater Aziraphale had created in the dock.</p><p>“Cra-Crawly.”</p><p>The demon hovered near the injured angel, taking in the damage. Even the darkness couldn’t hide the spots on the otherwise perfectly white wings. Crawly had heard the crash, and while the humans had begun to mutter about shooting stars and vengeful gods, Crawly’s first thought had been ‘Fallen angel’.</p><p>He’d been wrong. He’d found a fallen angel, and even before seeing Aziraphale’s white wings, he’d noticed the lack of sulfur in the air. However, he hadn’t expected <em>this</em>, and now he was struggling to find the right expression for the event.</p><p>Aziraphale was staring up at him, eyes glazed over, and something twitched within Crawly’s gut that had only been used to alcohol for the last couple of months. He pushed the unwelcome feeling away and crossed his arms.</p><p>“So you went to the one place I told you not to go to and didn’t just crash – no, you had to get yourself skewered as well.” It was a grotesque scene, however, Crawly had seen worse in Hell. Injuries were different when intentional. This was clearly accidental, though not less painful. “I’m impressed.”</p><p>It was an accident, but it didn’t change the fact that the ward had been made by Crawly. There were numerous reasons as to why he’d sought to this kind of magic to keep angels away, and he would proudly list all of them to make it clear that this scene, in particular, wasn’t what he’d expected nor wanted.</p><p>First of all; Crawly had not kept it a secret that he was tired of Heaven and angels and their divine interventions. He’d been forced to fly across waters filled with corpses, and if he hadn’t Fallen before, he was sure the sight would have caused him to ask the right questions anyway. And Aziraphale had the audacity to look away to search for <em>reasons</em> for the Flood’s existence. In the end, Crawly hadn’t been in the mood to listen to the angel trying his best to ramble about ineffability.</p><p>But due to some demonic intervention, not all landbound humans had perished. This settlement was proof of that. Heaven wouldn’t accept such acts of mercy, so Crawly had no choice but to keep this a secret from Aziraphale who, as he liked to point out, couldn’t disobey Heaven.</p><p>Crawly, being a demon, couldn’t just let the humans live because he felt like it. That’d be too compassionate for a demon – and, apparently, for an angel as well. Who was allowed to be compassionate, then? Fortunately, humans who’d barely escaped God’s punishment had a tendency towards bitterness rather than gratefulness, and Hell had taken an interest in this opportunity to spread evil influence.</p><p>The wards were supposed to keep Aziraphale away so he could do his job in peace and get Hastur and Ligur off his back. Crawly’s damned imagination had forced him to picture Aziraphale, naïve and hopeful as ever, spot another demon for the first time and waltz over to start a conversation. Hastur wouldn’t appreciate an angel asking for his thoughts about the weather. Ligur would be even worse. It’d result in Aziraphale writhing in pain.</p><p>Much like now, Crawly supposed.</p><p>The difference was he hadn’t imagined this scene to take place.</p><p>“It <em>hurts</em>,” Aziraphale said, staring at the tip of the bloodstained wood that seemed to be reaching for the sky. His left wing did a few pathetic twitches, twirling splinters into the air.</p><p>“Looks like it,” Crawly said as he walked around the angel to inspect the angel’s injuries. It quickly became clear that Aziraphale was dying. While their bodies could survive more than humans’ due to their ethereal will, they would give up at some point. Aziraphale’s blood had begun to seep through Crawly’s boots, and he was surprised the angel hadn’t headed for Heaven already. “You are bleeding bloody everywhere.”</p><p>Aziraphale whimpered, closing his eyes.</p><p>“A broken wing, too,” Crawly tsked and winced on his behalf. Pushing the itching sensation in his gut aside, Crawly reminded himself that this was very much Aziraphale’s fault. He’d gone against Crawly’s advice to stay away, and <em>then </em>he’d managed to fly into the ward rather than walk into it. “That’s a pain to deal with. Can’t imagine you crossing the desert on one of those walking humpback couches.”</p><p>“Camel,” Aziraphale corrected him with a wet cough. The tip of his wing brushed against Crawly’s leg, and the demon shuddered.</p><p>“Don’t suppose you have any Heavenly solutions to this mess?” he asked while keeping his voice perfectly calm. Aziraphale was squirming enough for the two of them. “You’re in a no-miracle zone, and you can’t count on me to heal you.”</p><p>What Crawly said was undoubtedly true. Demonic hands weren’t meant for healing, and especially not something as grave as this. And this was not discussing the fact that Aziraphale, a proud angel of the Lord, shouldn’t count on a demon to help him, ever. Even if they had shared both meals and conversations before, and Crawly hadn’t planned on harming the angel.</p><p>Aziraphale whimpered, and Crawly flinched despite being used to such sounds. They should practically fill him with homesickness – Hell was stuffed with whimpers and moans from tortured souls stuck on racks. Now his cursed imagination couldn’t help but picture Ligur hovering above a certain angel, torture tools gleaming in the light of the Hellfire.</p><p>“Stop making those noises,” Crawly snapped, and Aziraphale fell quiet beneath him. In the silence, only the sound of Aziraphale’s feathers brushing against rubbles and splinters could be heard.</p><p>“I feel-“ Aziraphale gulped down greedy breaths of air, yet still managed to sound like he was being strangled. “Lord, this is dreadful.”</p><p>“Can imagine,” Crawly said and nodded. “What a shame it didn’t pierce your heart. Would’ve been faster. Try to aim for that the next time.”</p><p>“I don’t-“ The angel had closed his eyes again, face scrounged up in an agonized grimace. “I don’t intend-” He broken wing spasmed, earning a moan as it touched Crawly’s feet.</p><p>Aziraphale looked up at him, and by staring into the widened blue irises, Crawly realized that the angel was afraid.</p><p>“Not used to pain, Angel?”</p><p>“Is this what humans feel?” Aziraphale asked through quick pants. “Every time?”</p><p>“Depends on their deaths, I suppose. There are quicker ways to go.” Crawly’s first discorporation had been caused by Hastur’s dagger through his heart. It’d been decided that Crawly had been too slow to return for a meeting in Hell. The dagger had been his express route, and Crawly hadn’t even realized he’d been discorporated before he was standing in a familiar crowded Hallway that reeked of feces and rotten seaweed. More discorporations had followed in the centuries after that; some caused by humans, some by demons, a single time by one of Aziraphale’s co-workers, and most time just by sheer accident. “Can’t recommend drowning, though. It’s rather unpleasant.”</p><p>“You- You’ve-“</p><p>A weird rattling noise escaped Aziraphale’s lungs, and Crawly wanted to walk away. This wasn’t his mess to deal with, not when there wasn’t anything he could do about it anyway. Other than keeping the humans at a distance so they wouldn’t see the body before it’d disappeared.</p><p> “Stop squirming if you’re so squeamish,” Crawly said. “You’re <em>leaking</em>. Sounds like your lung’s done for it. Just have to wait for it to fill with blood – or some other organs to quit. You must have crushed <em>something</em> more than bones. Then the body gives up.”</p><p>“I know. I saw-“ Aziraphale winced again. His hands were trembling by his sides, having given up on trying to tug himself loose. “I saw Abel. The rot-“</p><p>“Which won’t happen to you,” Crawly pointed out. Even if the blood remained, Crawly <em>could </em>miracle it away to avoid unnecessary questions.</p><p>“Horrible,” Aziraphale said, and from his distant stare, it was easy to tell that he was stuck in memories.</p><p>“Yeah,” Crawly said and had the sinking feeling that they were both thinking about bodies carried by never-ending waves.</p><p>“How- How do they know?”</p><p>Crawly blinked and found himself hovering above a dying Aziraphale. It was somehow more pleasant than the memory of the Flood. “What?”</p><p>“The humans,” Aziraphale practically whispered. His face was whiter than his wings, now. “What comes next. They do not know.”</p><p>“Well, they believe. It’s your job to make sure they do, isn’t it?” Crawly shrugged. “And you <em>know</em>. It’s all ‘poof’, and you’re back in Heaven. You know Heaven. You live there. You-“</p><p>“I feel awful,” Aziraphale sobbed. It was difficult to imagine that his robe hadn’t been crimson to begin with. “I can’t- I <em>can’t </em>focus. I can’t-”</p><p>The angel was crying now, tears spilling down his pale cheeks and down towards his chest that kept trembling frantically.</p><p>“It’s just discorporation, Angel,” Crawly said and looked away. A beat passed, a gasp left Aziraphale’s bloodstained lips, and then Crawly fought the urge to face-palm as the realization hit him. “Oh, for- You’ve never done this before?”</p><p>How had the angel gone so far without a discorporation? Even if he’d introduced himself as a Guardian of Heaven, that introduction had been polite and gentle all while talking to a demon. Aziraphale didn’t appear to be a warrior, sword or no sword, and Crawly would have expected his first discorporation to be from falling off a cliff while chasing butterflies or something like it.</p><p>“I’ve heard it should be like-“ Aziraphale said with blood spilling from his lips, “like falling asleep. But come to think of it,” he added through desperate pants, “I don’t have any experience with sleeping, either.”</p><p>“You should live a little,” Crawly said dryly. “Die a little as well, I suppose.”</p><p>“I-“ Aziraphale’s fingers twitched but didn’t find the strength to reach for him. His eyes, however, were pleading even without the words. “Crawly, please.”</p><p>“What do you want me to do?” Crawly said and threw his useless hands in the air.</p><p>It appeared that Aziraphale didn’t know the answer to the question, and the angel looked away, biting down on his lips to quiet his moaning.</p><p>Guilt didn’t mix well with demons. It could be compared to seasickness, clawing at his insides, and making Crawly feel ill. It swelled like hungry coils reaching for his chest, and when Crawly failed to ignore the unwanted heaviness, he made the decision to remove himself from the scene he shouldn’t have been a part of in the first place.</p><p>“Right,” he said and turned his head. “I’ll leave you to it. Try holding your breath for a while. It might work.”</p><p>The demon had only managed to take a single step when a shaking hand grasped the edge of his robe, staining the dark fabric with blood.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Crawly froze and suppressed a sigh. That had done it. He couldn’t leave now.</p><p>“That’s it,” he said and turned to face Aziraphale again. “I’m going to slit your throat and get it over with.”</p><p>The demon crouched beside the angel, careful not to step on any feathers. From his belt, he brought forth a dagger that had never touched an angel before, though it’d been given to him for that reason. He’d used it to cut clusters of grapes instead.</p><p>Before the dagger could come close to the skin, Aziraphale had found the strength to move his hand again, this time reaching for Crawly’s wrist.</p><p>“<em>Owowowow</em>.” For a dying angel, Aziraphale had a surprising amount of strength. Maybe Crawly had misjudged him. “Are you trying to break my wrist?”</p><p>“I still <em>feel </em>Her,” Aziraphale said, staring blankly ahead. That statement wasn’t a surprise: Crawly could see his white wings. “But I feel-“</p><p>Lonely. Small. Scared.</p><p>Aziraphale didn’t finish his sentence, but Crawly would end it with one if not all of the words because that was what the angel looked like at the moment. In pain, facing the experience of death for the first time, far away from Heaven and its angels. It was just him and Crawly, like it’d been for a while now. Except now Aziraphale would be going away, all because of Crawly’s ward.</p><p>Crawly attached the dagger to his belt again but remained kneeling next to the angel’s head.</p><p>“S’not so bad. You just need to make that heart stop beating, then it’s all over. Back in Heaven before you know it. Then you just gotta grovel your way to a new body. Make sure to stop by a healer to get that wing fixed. I know you have those.”</p><p>At his words, Aziraphale tried to move his wings again, and this time Crawly was quick, brushing away some loose stones and picking splinters from the feathers the moment the wing fell limp again.</p><p>Aziraphale said nothing at the touch. He was too busy trying to breathe with his damaged chest.</p><p>“Seriously, Angel. I’ve done it. S’just something to get used to. We were supposed to do it to each other, remember?” Crawly said gently and looked down to see his hands filled with bloodstained down.</p><p>This time, Aziraphale tried to answer him, but all that left his mouth was blood spilling from his lips. He was choking on it, every gasp causing his pale face to be covered in what appeared to be crimson freckles.</p><p>“I can still slit your throat,” Crawly offered while trying to tilt the angel’s head so that the blood could pour from his mouth instead. His fingers touched the blond curls of Aziraphale’s hair and found them to be even softer than expected. “So you don’t have to wait. And I’d probably get a commendation for killing an angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale managed to make a disgruntled noise that Crawly took as a ‘no’.</p><p>“Or I can just stay,” the demon offered next. “I’ll get a commendation either way for torturing a dying angel.”</p><p>Crawly could add this in his reports. He was sure Beelzebub would love it. He’d have to leave out some details, but it wouldn’t change the truth of it all. An angel had crashed into his ward, fell, impaled itself in the process, and Crawly had done nothing but stare and talk until it took its final breath. Such a good demon he was, killing angels with ease. Discorporating them, to be exact, not that it changed anything when Aziraphale had still looked so afraid.</p><p>Aziraphale let out two choked gasps, and there was a horrible noise as flesh moved around the sharpened wood. It wouldn’t be long now, judging from the unfocused look in Aziraphale’s eyes. Unconsciously, Crawly moved to stroke the angel’s arm and found it to be alarmingly cold.</p><p>At Crawly’s comfort, Aziraphale’s head lulled back until he was facing the dark sky.</p><p>Crawly nodded encouragingly.</p><p>“Right. Up you go. You know the way.”</p><p>This painful process had already taken too long, and after another endless second, Crawly was startled to realize that Aziraphale wasn’t looking at the sky. He was looking at Crawly, seeking his golden eyes.</p><p>Crawly’s throat closed up, and he felt as if he was suffocating as well.</p><p>“Azira-“</p><p>The angel grew limp before Crawly could finish his name, the final spark having left Aziraphale’s eyes. They were still staring at Crawly, but they weren’t seeing him. Not any longer.</p><p>Crawly let out a heavy breath and backed away from the dead angel. It was over. Time to rinse the blood off his hands and move on.</p><p>The process of forgetting this event had already begun; Crawly blinked, and then Aziraphale’s body was gone. The crater remained, alongside the broken plank that had pierced the angel’s chest. The blood on its sharpened tip had dried now, though fresh blood was still pooling at its bottom.</p><p>Crawly snapped his fingers and willed the blood away. He didn’t want to look at it anymore. He didn’t bother to fix the broken dock, though he stayed for a few more moments to pick up the white feathers Aziraphale had lost in his fall.</p><p>The demon held them in his hands for a moment, then he called forth the flames from his palms. They ate the feathers with fierce hunger, and Crawly tilted his head as he watched the feathers change from white to dark before crumbling into ash to be carried away by the wind.</p><p>No trace of Aziraphale left. Nothing for the humans to find.</p><p>It was just in time, too, as Crawly broke the concentration that had kept the humans from exploring the crash site until now. An elder left his hut, a torch held high to explore in the darkness.</p><p>“What happened here?” he asked, staring at the shattered planks.</p><p>“Coconut,” Crawly said and shrugged towards the palm tree that had miraculously appeared next to the dock.</p>
<hr/><p>It took a couple of decades before Aziraphale was back on Earth. He looked none the worse for wear when Crawly found him sipping wine in a newly established tavern.</p><p>“Thank you,” the angel told him. “For the last-“</p><p>Crawly – though he would soon stop calling himself by that name – held up a hand to silence him. “Let’s not do that again.”</p><p>The demon couldn’t count on the angel to stay away from danger. Through the millennia, the two of them would be discorporated numerous times, though Aziraphale never appeared fearful about it again. The existential dread had quickly been replaced by annoyance as Aziraphale now knew how much paperwork it took to require a new body.</p><p>It didn’t diminish the demon’s worries, however, since he had better things to do in his spare time than comforting dying angels.</p><p>The best solution, of course, was to stick around to try to keep the angel from discorporation from now on.</p><p>It would be a difficult task, but Crawly accepted it, nonetheless.</p><p>No rest for the wicked, he’d grumbled to himself the first time he’d appeared to pull the angel away from frightened and armed humans.</p><p>That would later become a popular saying.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Isn't it just annoying when you try to be an evil demon but it turns out you have a) morals, and b) a crush on your enemy?</p><p>I'll probably keep jumping back and forth when it comes to demons' healing powers (or lack of) in my fics. This time, however, I went with basically none, inspired by the line from the book where Crowley muses about how Aziraphale's hands are made for healing, while his own are made for stealing (something like that. I wish I could quote it directly but alas, the library finally told me to hand back the book after four months, and it's quite the task to buy Good Omens from a Danish bookshop. Been waiting for the Good Omens book I ordered to arrive for weeks now). I'll probably change it just to fit the amount of hurt/comfort a fic needs.</p><p>I hope you all enjoyed this story, support is very welcome! You've all been so kind to me with my previous fics, and while I've run out of one-shot ideas for now (don't worry, more will come sooner or later), I am planing a longer story I'd hoped to get out soon - however, I find myself busy with my original works, so I need to clear some deadlines with my newest publication before beginning a WIP. Obligations are hard. I just wanna write Aziraphale whump, honestly. I don't even have a good excuse.</p><p>As always; English isn't my native language, so I apologize for any mistake I didn't catch. You can find me as riathedreamer on tumblr and twitter if you want to talk &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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